


Awakening

by ninamalfoy



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Betaed, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamalfoy/pseuds/ninamalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bastian discovers himself - and Lukas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> First published on LJ on April 26th, 2005.
> 
> Not true in the least bit. I'm just borrowing their public persona to play.
> 
> A huge shout-out goes to cerulean_eyes who is just plain amazing and breathtaking and doesn't deserve me bugging her with fics to be beta-ed... *winks* Thank you so very much, love, for undertaking that arduous task!

Snoring. Loud, nerve-wracking snoring. Bastian groans and burrows his head deeper into his pillow to shut off the source of that obnoxious sound. But to no avail; it gets even louder, if that's even possible. Gah. And it's waking him up, and damnit, Bastian would have loved to sleep some more, and the bed's so comfortable, especially with a warm naked body next to him.

Warm. Naked.

Body.

Somehow it occurs to Bastian's still woobly train of thoughts that there's something not exactly right with these words. And the warm naked body in his bed. At training camp. For the German national team. And he's sharing the room with Lukas.

Who actually seems to be the one snoring. And also, conveniently, the one he's lying next to and his left arm and leg are slung over.

A little voice in Bastian's head is screaming at him, trying to get through the sleep- and warmth-induced haze. _It'sLukasgoddamnitareyouaqueerfairyafaggot-_ and Bastian yells.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!"

He almost jumps off the bed, but only succeeds in scrambling away from Lukas and thus falling off the edge of the bed and taking the sheets with him in a big heap, which soften his fall.

A groan and something muttered that Bastian can't make out. Probably Polish. Some really nasty curse. Then Lukas' head comes into his vision. He's still in half-sleep mode, his short hair mussed and he's rubbing his eyes. "Bastian, is that you?"

He just nods, not daring to say a word. Damn, how could this have happened? They didn't even have anything to booze – they just…

"Wha – oh." Lukas scratches his head, not daring to – or not wanting to? – meet Bastian's eyes. Instead, he just looks at the sheets that are trying to hide most of Bastian's nakedness, but not having much success. "Look, I'm going to grab a shower, okay?"

Not waiting for Bastian's answer - _hey, he would have loved to shower, too_ – Lukas scoots off the bed, to the other side, and gets up, stretching - Bastian can almost hear his vertebrae cracking - and then he's walking to the bathroom door and the sun is coming out from behind the clouds and the light hits Lukas. He fucking glows, the downy hairs on his body alightning, clothing him in light, the darkish finger-shaped bruises on his back contrasting starkly and suddenly Bastian's flooded with sharpglaring memories of how he grappled for hold on Lukas, how his fingers slipped a little on his sweaty back, digging in, and how loud their harsh breathing had sounded in his ears, and…

*

How it had begun, Bastian couldn't fathom. There had been looks, curiouslingering, and him not exactly knowing what to say or do, and wishing that this would stop, that this would be just a phase, and didn't all guys feel attracted to others at a time of their life or something like that?

The first had been Benny Lauth, beautifulstraight Benjamin, who had been on an experimenting-with-anything binge which had led to some drunken fumblings and sloppy kisses in his room, Benjamin's, while his parents were gone for the weekend, and then they had stopped, awkwardly, not knowing what to do exactly, and Bastian had spent that night sleepless, thrashing around, not daring to touch his achingly hard cock, watching the dark shape of Benny sleeping soundly in his bed, just some steps away and yet it felt as if he was a whole world away.

Bastian had been terribly confused afterwards and tried to chalk it up to the whiskey they had mixed with Coke beforehand to sweeten the sharpburning tang, but whenever he saw a glimpse of Benny in the showers or changing into the ski getup, he couldn't help the memories resurfacing of what it had felt like running his shaking fingers over Benny's breast, over his hard nipples, and how their mouths had missed each other, wetlickstrokes, but then it suddenly fit. It had been Bastian's first real kiss and it was not at all what he had expected, wettongue, Benny's, and he almost had to gag because it filled his whole mouth, and the whiskeypeperoni – from the pizza – taste had been overwhelming, but it hadn't sucked totally, either.

And since Benny, there hadn't been another guy – though there had been more than enough girls, with more or less soft curves, pliant in his arms, boldly groping him, kissingbiting his neck, guiding his hand down to their softwet folds, spreading their legs for him to forget himself into them, sighingmoaning, sometimes screaming, shuddering, their fingernails raking his back, taking him into their mouths, lickingsucking, more or less talented. They then left his bed, dressing quietly, sometimes leaving phone numbers with a name that he couldn't put a face to the next day.

And now there is Lukas. Bastian had been on the U15 team with him, likewise on the U19 team, and they had quickly formed an easy camaderie which was just slightly hampered by Lukas' absolute refusal to do booze, something Bastian didn't understand at the time and had joked about with the other teammates at spontaneous parties, but deep down he had come to respect the Pole's steadfastness. They didn't become friends exactly, but knew each other well enough to do small talk.

It wasn't until their first U21 game together, the one against Switzerland, where he had scored a goal, the only goal of this game, that Lukas hugged him hard, his whole body flush against him, and it only added to Bastian's exhilaration, and then Mike jumped onto him, screaming, and Basti had to stagger back, but Lukas held him up, laughing, and everything was absolutely terrific, and if he leant just that bit more into Lukas – hell, who would care? No one save him, that was. After he had to leave the pitch in the 80th minute, feeling sore all over, he plopped down beside Lukas, pulling on the heavy warm sweatshirt. Lukas grinned at him, "wanna share my blanket?" and held up a corner of the comforter he had wrapped around his legs, and suddenly the strange giddy feeling that had shot through Bastian at Lukas' hug on the field was back, and he felt a flush creep up his face, nodded.

It was fucking five grades Celsius and so the blissful warmth was very welcome, and Basti couldn't help the sigh escaping his lips, pulling over more of the blanket and tucking it underneath his thighs. Lukas chuckled. "Man, you've got it bad."

Bastian smiled. "Too bad I couldn't have played out there wrapped up in the blanket." – "A sight for sore eyes, to be sure," Lukas grinned. "You could have made the fashion pages in no time."

Now he had to laugh and retorted with a remark about 'worst dressing male of the century', and then it deteriorated to mock-dissing each other's fashion styles and then to crude jokes and suddenly there was Lukas' thigh – or, to be accurate, part of his thigh and his knee – flush against Bastian's, and there was no change in Lukas' tone as he told Basti the latest blonde joke he'd heard from a teammate. Bastian nodded and laughed at the right places, but couldn't shake the strange feeling that there was something he was missing, something that he should figure out, but then the game was over and they had won.

Lukas jumped up from the bench, the blanket sliding from his thighs and cold air hit Bastian, and he quickly stood up, too, shoving these strange Lukas-connected feelings and thoughts to the back of his mind. In the ensuing spontaneous celebration binge in one of Dortmund's bigger discos that Mike knew the bouncer of, something like Justin's, he managed to forget all about it – _almost_. And there were girls, too, willing and eager for him to take them as he wanted to, and so he did, not wasting any chances.

At the next U21 games everything was just as usual, nothing out of the order – if it weren't for Lukas' looks. Lingering, maybe just the crucial second too long for a casual once-over, with a corner of his mouth curving, a secret half-smile for Bastian. In the shower, at training, sitting on the bench, at team meetings. But it never got any further than that – and Bastian woke more than once from lust-filled dreams where he was touching a male body, their legs tangling, the heat between them rising and they kissed, awkward at first but then got bolder and Bastian had his eyes shut during all of it, only concentrating on the feel of the downy hair on the guy's stomach, the first curls of pubic hair, so like his, the hard muscles of his thighs, and how it felt to be touched by a man, strongsure, not hesitating in the least bit, and he always woke up just when he had finally opened his eyes to look into Lukas' sweat-sheened face, rapt with desire.

Soon the dreams ceased – but whenever he'd hear Lukas' name casually mentioned on TV, by other team mates, on the radio or when he'd read his name in soccer magazines, saw pictures and interviews of him, he'd be suffused by a faint afterglow of that strange giddiness that he had felt whenever Lukas was near him.

And then they had made the national team together – Bastian had travelled with his other Bayern teammates, but Lukas had arrived a bit later by himself, smiling as if the fact that he had made it to the national team didn't faze him the least bit, carrying himself with the same confidence that Bastian had always admired in him and greeted him warmly with a hug. Lukas smelled good, cleanspicy, Bastian couldn't recognize the aftershave, and there it was again, that damned feeling Bastian couldn't make any sense of, only much stronger than it had ever been before.

It drives Bastian mad that he hadn't been able to just forget about it, like he had with Benny, whom he now is just good friends with. They now phone each other sometimes, and when the Hamburgian's in Munich, they go out with some mates, clubbing all the night, and the Oktoberfest is a must, of course. They have never spoken about that experimenting thing, and if it weren't for Lukas, Bastian would have been convinced that it was just that one time, zagging where he should be zigging, and that the alcohol had somehow lowered his inhibitions. He does like to do it with girls, it's just that the right one hasn't turned up yet. Or so he tells himself.

But now he isn't that sure about himself anymore, and it's all Lukas' fault. A voice cuts through his musings, and Basti looks up, sees Völler. "Here are the keys, Michael-", that'd be Skibbe – "will hand them out. Ballack and Frings-", Micha smiles and playfully highfives with Torsten, "…, Jeremies and Ziege, Schneider and Hamann, …" and then it's his turn, "Schweinsteiger and Podolski,…" and damn, why couldn't he have been put up with anyone else, one of the Stuttgarters, or even boring do-gooder Friedrich, and then Lukas is standing in front of him, holding up their key cards. "Our room – wanna go up now?" Bastian nods, mentally sighing and giving in to his fate.

After the not very eventful elevator ride with Kuranyi and Hinkel, agreeing to come down later in the evening to their room as Andi was one of the few resourceful ones that had actually brought a PS2 with them, they enter their room. It's a generic hotel room, two beds, two bedside tables, a big wardrobe for both of them, a bathroom door. Nothing special. Lukas throws his travel bag on the bed next to the windows. "Is it okay when I sleep here?" Bastian nods, shrugging. He concentrates on the not exactly too arduous task of unpacking, but to no avail. Lukas just plops down next to his pile of shirts and grins at him. "How are things, Bastian?" His body-clinging shirt with some ad print on front slides up and Bastian can see a bit of his tanned abs, and just the slightest hint of a happy trail, and he quickly picks up the pile and stuffs them into one of the wardrobe shelves.

"Bastian? Did you take a vow of silence?" Lukas is standing next to him now, that close that he can smell him, that aftershavecleanLukas smell and this bloody feeling just won't go _away_, and Bastian suddenly is fed up with all of it, fed up with the way he's feeling, fed up with just about _everything_, and he turns, glaring at Lukas, "just shut up, damn you," and pushes past him – but to no avail, as there's suddenly a hand on his arm, holding him in an iron grip.

"What the fuck is up with you?", the Pole hisses, his eyes narrowing. "I didn't do anything, get a grip on yourself!" – "Nothing's up with me, it's you," Bastian retorts sharply, full knowing that he's accusing Lukas of nothing, and then the grip loosens, the hand sliding down his arm, slowly, and Bastian jerks away.

"Don't you fucking touch me," he spits, but Lukas doesn't budge, is still standing there, blocking his exit. "Not until you tell me what bug crawled up your ass and died there," he replies quietly.

And this is when Bastian cracks. Crushing his mouth on Lukas', intent on making him suffer, showing him who's in charge here, and Lukas topples backward, not able to hold up the full force of Bastian's charging and, not letting him go now that he has got him, Bastian pushes him against the wardrobe, pressing himself against him, forcing his tongue into Lukas' mouth. His hands are twisting into Lukas' shirt, bunching up the sides, and he's finally his, all his, and suddenly a hand grasps Bastian's arse, hard, and the other cards through his hair, angling his head and Lukas takes over control of the angryhot kiss, and Bastian's lost into the maelstrom of arousalconfusionfury that he's caught up in, just concentrating on tastingsmellingtouching Lukas and it's almost too much, too real to be fucking goddamnit real, and he wants it, wants _everything_, and when Lukas steps forward, pushing him onto his bed, he doesn't fight, lets it happen.

His legs are spread and Lukas is lying in between them, and he feels his cock throb against Lukas' thigh, hothard, and his groan is muffled by Lukas' tongue, hotslick, and then he feels his sweatshirt pulled up, roughly, and then there's Lukas' hand delving under his t-shirt and then it's skin on skin and Bastian hisses, suddenly terrified of what's going to happen. But Lukas just shifts a bit upwards, and damn, the friction is almost unbearable and he wants more, not caring anymore about what they're doing. He's desperate to feel Lukas' skin and tugs sharply at Lukas' shirt, and Lukas breaks the kiss, bites his jaw, hardnips, and raises himself to his knees. Bastian, his cock aching for more of that delicious pressure, sighs frustrated, but Lukas quickly pulls off the offending clothing item, saying, "C'mon, off with them, Bastian," and his voice is deeper than usual, shaking a bit, and Bastian just nods, wordlessly, and then they are both shirtless, save for Lukas' cargo trousers and Bastian's Diesel jeans, and they look at each other.

Lukas' lips are swollen, reddishwet, and there's a very prominent bulge denting his front and Bastian's eyes are drawn to it, and then Lukas' hands busy themselves with opening the fly on his cargos - Bastian suddenly can't breathe, and then the trousers slide over Lukas' hips and the black tight briefs with a slightly darker spot on the front don't really leave anything to the imagination - "damnit, come back here, Lukas…" and that wasn't really him growling these words, that wasn't him spreading his legs more like a wanton slut, that wasn't him touching himself, pressing down on his bulge, and then he's covered by Lukas who's grinding down on him, and he can feel the wethotstickiness of the briefs against the back of his hand and his other hand snakes around to Lukas' ass, grasping it, and to feel Lukas' nakedwarm torso against his is more than fanfuckingtastic.

Lukas catches his lips, sucking them into his mouth, and Bastian rocks against him, his cock throbbing, and he strokes Lukas' dick, feeling dizzydesperate, and then his hand slips under the waistband, touching Lukas' naked ass, clutching down, feeling the softsweaty downy hairs down there brush his palm, and he feels a shudder rack Lukas' body, down to his toes, and Lukas' hotjittery breaths on his neck, his fingers buried into Bastian's sweaty strands.

He needs more, _they_ need more, and so he grunts, pushing against Lukas, fumbling around with his one hand to open his jeans, and damnit, he could use some help there, and Lukas' hand bats his away, and then his fly is open, and he groans at the feeling of his dick springing free as Lukas pulls down his boxers, slapping down onto his stomach, and then there's a warmsweaty hand on his dick and Bastian can't look away from the incredible sight, his dick in Lukas's hand, and it feels like as if he has to pass out any minute now, "stopstopi'mgoingto…", but Lukas isn't heeding his warnings, rubbing hard, updownup, and as his lips close over Bastian's again, he can't help crushing them, their teeth clacking against each other, fisting his fingers in Lukas' sweatysticky hair, rocking up, rocking into that rhythm, moremore_more_.

With a scream that is partly muffled by Lukas' tongue, he comes, in great spurts, and it's a brilliant supernova, blinding him to everything, whitehot jolts sizzling through his body, and the sudden sharp tang of coppery blood just adds to this indescribable feeling, and he slowly comes down to earth, the last aftershocks dying away slowly, reverbrating through his body.

Lukas' hand is still on his now-softening dick, just resting there, and Bastian can just hold back from uttering something equally inane like 'was it good for you, too?' when he looks up into Lukas' eyes, and there's something in them that makes him swallow hard and then Lukas says, "I didn't come." There's something in his voice, growling silently, like a furious tiger behind thin bars, prone to break at the slightest touch, and Bastian hesitantly slides his hand down Lukas torso, southwards, figuring that he'd have to jerk him off, but Lukas stops his hand, grabbing his wrist and pins it next to his head.

With his other hand, Lukas slides down his cargo pants and the briefs down his thighs, and with some wriggling he manages to get out of them, pushing them over the edge of the bed with his feet, and then his other hand is on Bastian's hips, and he pushes down the boxers with the Diesel jeans. Bastian doesn't ask, doesn't protest, just complies silently and when his jeans are finally off - with Lukas muttering something about 'too damn tight' – the Pole slowly lowers himself onto Bastian again, and this – whatever it is - has become something damn serious now, something that Bastian can't chalk up to fooling around anymore, and he's afraid of what will happen now, of what Lukas will want to do, but on the other side he can't wait for it and when Lukas' dick touches his own he shudders, violently, and then Lukas mouth is back on his, greedyhungry, and they're flush against each other and then Lukas grinds down on him and he moans, rocking up.

The grip on his wrist loosens and then the hand's on his hip, holding him in place, and they break loose, breathing hard. Lukas slides one of his thighs up, spreading Bastian's legs further, and then he feels fingers smearing his come on their stomachs, and then trailing around his cock's shaft, and further down, to his balls, but not stopping, and suddenly Bastian knows what Lukas wants and pushes against Lukas, but the Pole's strength is more than a match for his and then the wetslick fingers are in his butt crack and he squirms, wanting to get out, wanting to stop it, but Lukas' body is still pinning him down, and he hears his voice hissing, "just give me what I want and everything'll be okay," and suddenly it's down _there_.

Bastian stiffens, and then the finger pushes down, and it feels strange, not bad strange, but somehow… _weird_ strange, and he pushes against Lukas' shoulders feebly, still weakened by the gigantic orgasm and not really having any good leverage, and "relax, damnit, it isn't that bad," and then the finger is in, and he can't help the moansigh escaping his lips, feeling a shudder spread through his body, and Lukas slowly slides the finger farther in, crooking it, and his already half-limp cock gets hard again, and how on earth could he have guessed that it'd feel that fucking _good_?

Suddenly Lukas is brushing up against a point inside of him that makes him literally see stars and he groans, clutching Lukas' back, trying to rock up against him and down against the finger simultaneously, his breath coming in shuddering racks and his eyes are scrunched shut and then there's a second finger and it hurts as Lukas thrusts hard into him, but then there is this incredible feeling again, and he doesn't care, needing more, and when Lukas' dick brushes against his, Bastian groans out loudly, his fingers clawing Lukas' back, _now_.

"Okay?", Lukas asks, sharply, thrusting into him again and again, and fuck, _yes_, Bastian's looking straight at Lukas while this incredible feeling is wreaking havoc on his body and his mind, taking in the flushed face, the tongue sneaking out to lick the lips, the desire-lidded eyes, and he says, "yes, whatever, goddamn-" and then the fingers are gone with a softwet 'plop' and Bastian doesn't fucking care that he's about to get fucked by Lukas, hell, he's that close to coming again…

Lukas prods at Bastian's legs and so the Bavarian raises them, not knowing where to put them and in the end settles for crossing them over Lukas' back, feeling very strange and exposed, but then Lukas is looking at him, smiling that secret half-smile and what the hell was he thinking, this is _Lukas_, and then something wethothardblunt presses there, and it's toobigitwon't_fit_, and then it's in, and it hurts and Lukas forces his cock in slowly, inch by inch, and he closes his eyes, biting down on his lip, feeling his cock go flaccid again, but – there it is, just at this strangewonderful spot, and if Lukas'd just thrust a bit more he'd be fucking out of his mind, but he doesn't.

Bastian hisses, frustrated, his legs pressing down onto Lukas' back and then Lukas does thrust, and it's a whole another world, sizzlingpleasurethrobbinghurt melting into each other until he can't figure out anymore what he's feeling, too overwhelmed, and the loud "Fuck!" didn't just come from him, no, and Lukas' mouth is on his, too late to swallow the yell, but it's not too late to devour his mouth, and that's what Bastian does, his fingers digging into Lukas' back, trying to get more of him inside, getting him to do that thing again, whatever it is, and Lukas complies, starting off slowly but gaining more speed, and Bastian's suddenly, inexplicably afraid that his heart's going to give out, thumpthump_thump_, the sound drowning out the creaks of the bedsprings, the harsh breathing, and he holds on to Lukas for dear life, and then there's Lukas' mouth again, wetslickhot, and Bastian bucks, not able to bear this impossible build-up, his whole body shaking and he's so desperate to finally get off this cliff, to sail into the blinding sun, to feel everything rushing towards him, the neverending thrill, and then he feels Lukas jerking in him, his cock throbbing hard, and it's just that little push that Bastian needs.

*

He doesn't quite remember what happened afterwards, only that Lukas used his shirt to perfunctorily clean them off and then he had dropped off, exhaustion finally catching up with him, not caring that Lukas had stayed there, in his bed.

The shower stops running and Bastian runs a hand through his hair, sighing. He doesn't know what to say, what to do, and-

"Good morning, Bastian," says Lukas, stepping out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders and nothing else, and Bastian gulps, not wanting to look but - and then Lukas is standing in front of him, holding out a hand.

"Don't you want to get up?", Lukas asks, an eyebrow raised. The hand's still there and Bastian grasps it, and then Lukas pulls him to his feet, and they're standing there, only inches separating them, in all their glorious nakedness – save for Lukas' towel, and suddenly Bastian grins. He grabs the ends of the towel and pulls Lukas to him, planting a loud smack on his mouth.

"A very good morning to you, too," Bastian says, walking past a slightly dazed Lukas, still grinning – and yelps when the damp towel hits his ass.


End file.
